Dropped All Defenses
by crispydaae
Summary: She knew it was him. From the very millisecond that his sweet, rich tenor reached her ears, she knew, and she could not bring herself to leave the stage or to move towards him. Point of No Return from Christine's POV based on a headcanon of mine that I genuinely thought was canon until I realized no one else I knew interpreted the scene that way.


She knew it was him.

From the very millisecond that his sweet, rich tenor reached her ears, she knew, and she could not bring herself to leave the stage or to move towards him - how should she go on? If she flees, they will know it is him, and they will shoot. As much as she has pretended, as much as she has played the part that they assigned to her, she knew in that moment that she did not want him to be entrapped.

If she stayed on stage, however, performed the choreography, she would fall into his trap once again - his voice, his hands would reach her once more and she would follow him into the darkness.

She remained seated at the prop table for what felt like hours but could only be seconds, knowing either way she could not win - it was either his life or her freedom. As he completed the first line, she stood, making her choice and moving towards him.

She walked as confidently as she could, attempting to maintain strength, control - he was not the one who would sweep her away this time. He was not the one that would lure her into security, to sing her to sleep, no - this time, he would be in her hands. If she must perform this choreography, she will use it to her advantage, to show him she is not his, nor was she ever.

 _Now you are here with me...no second thoughts…_

He snatched the apple from her hand, and she felt the loss of it - how much more would he take from her? It was only a prop, of course, but it did not go unnoticed by her.

 _You've decided…decided…_

His voice was now in her left ear, and for a moment she almost thought she could feel his breath on her neck, and she wondered what decisions she had made that had led her to this moment. Was it when she allowed him to instruct her that she relented control? Was it when she sang for him that she gave him her soul?

In this moment, she would take it back, and she would take his too, so long as she could maintain her strength.

She felt her resolve faltering at the feeling of his hands on her shoulders, though, those long fingers that were instruments of their own, those fingers once studied the skin of her cheek, her neck, as though it were a page full of the most intricate compositions...her breath was now shaky, and she feigned drinking from the prop goblet to hide the sudden warmth in her cheeks for a moment, just long enough that he would not notice the drastic transition from white to pink.

Moments later, he took her hand, and at first, she clenched a fist, digging her fingernails into her skin, keeping herself cognitive, remembering who this man was, why she was here…

 _No use resisting, abandon thought and let the dream descend…_

His words reached her and she softened, letting her palm close around his hand.

 _What raging fire shall flood the soul…_

Fire. Fire was within her, and she burned, crashing inside, remembering the light of the chandelier as it fell, nearly at her feet...she remembered the flames he threw at Raoul at the graveyard, she remembered burning underneath his touch in his lair, scalding hot, and she pulled away from him as though he had burned her, and she supposed he had many times before.

She scurried five feet away before realizing her mistake, knowing that he would recognize her fear and know that she knew of his plan. She attempted to regain her composure as he strode over to her, continuing his verses, not showing the slightest shift in his voice in reaction to her.

 _What sweet seduction lies before us…_

He was now behind her, and she could not see him, and this almost made it better somehow - she leaned into his touch as if falling back into the memories of the days when she could not see him, could not know that he was the madman that harassed the managers, that extorted and _killed,_ simply an angel in the darkness, an enveloping presence that embraced her in a way she could not see, but she could feel. His hands went through her thick tresses, down her shoulders and arms, slowly tracing the outline of her...when he began to bring them back up, his thumb caught the edge of her breast and she gasped, the sound startling them both. She snapped out of her haze, standing and breathing heavily, reminding herself of her intentions: _Gain control. Get him off the stage to safety. Make it clear that I am not his, and send him on his way._

As she sang, she wondered how he could have so perfectly predicted what she would be feeling in this moment. It intensified her fear, knowing that he knew her better than she had ever known him, and she wondered if he could read her thoughts in this moment as she continued on her mission. She leaned over the table, putting her upper bodice on display, knowing that he could not turn away, not for the first few seconds, putting him under her spell the way he had with his voice. She grabbed his hands, squeezing them tightly and raising them, willing him to follow her - when she felt his hands trembling violently, she knew she had him. She knew he was hers.

It served him right, to be handled in such a way by her on stage for everyone to see, for him to submit to her such softness, such tenderness in front of the very people he had controlled through fear for so long. He had now met his match, and she knew to be trapped or shot was not his fate, no. It was to crumble in her arms in front of this audience, to show them truly who he was inside, not the Phantom of the Opera but a man falling to pieces, losing more of himself everyday.

She was nearly to the final line when she saw it: the rim of a barrel pointed towards him, aimed so perfectly, so precisely that she knew he would never leave this stage if she did not make him. She immediately ran, knowing he would follow, and he tugged on her, pulling her back - how could she get him off the stage? How could she warn him without making it clear to Raoul and the police that she was trying to protect him?

She was bursting at the seams now, almost feeling the aim of the gun on her though she knew it was pointed at him. She was holding her breath as he finished the final line of the song, waiting to see him fall before her, when instead, she heard him sing lines that were not in the script, that she knew were only meant for her:

 _Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime...lead me,_ _ **save**_ _me from my solitude…_

She knew in that moment she would save him, even if it meant giving herself to him once more. Perhaps she did not have to give herself, though, perhaps somehow, they could be one at last - equals, not a maestro and an ingenue but a tenor and a soprano in a duet. She had never thought it could be that way when he was so strong, so imposing, but the tenderness he had shown during this performance was more than she had ever expected, more than she could bear. She considered his proposal, nearly forgetting the grave situation they were in as she looked into his amber eyes for the first time in so long, knowing that those eyes would always follow her, always haunt her if she ever left him...and if he ever left her, abandoned her on this stage with a bullet in his chest, she would carry the absence of his gaze with her wherever she went, the emptiness would follow her…

 _Anywhere you go, let me go too..._

She placed a hand on either side of his face, one on his mask and one on the cheek she had never expected to be so smooth, stroking both sides gently. When she heard the a cough in the audience, she froze, remembering where she was. She had to act quickly.

She ripped the mask off, exposing him to the audience, knowing he would immediately run. By the time the shots were ringing in her ears, his arm moved protectively around her, hurrying her off the stage and through a trap into darkness. 


End file.
